


Everything Stays

by stover



Series: Just Play Along (fic collection) [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuban!Lance, Denial of Feelings, Disownment, Friends to Lovers, Korean!Keith, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining!Keith, Sleeping Together, homophobic parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8767573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stover/pseuds/stover
Summary: Keith couldn’t tell what was worse — the dizzying heat from having Lance on him, or the coldness that hit his body the moment Lance let go.A prequel to Just Play Along, told in non-chronological segments.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **( ˘ ɜ˘) ♬♪♫**

Out in the field, Lance tipped his water bottle upside down over his head, soaking himself completely. “Fuuuck,” Lance groaned, “it’s hot.”

Somehow, Keith managed to reply without stuttering. “Yeah. It is.”

Lance shook his hair out, scattering droplets of water everywhere. “Damn, this summer’s brutal. School needs to be _out_ already. This is too much.”

Keith watched Lance thread fingers through his hair. He spied a bead of water trickle down the side of Lance’s temple and slide a wet path down to his jawline. It hung precariously to the angled slant of his jawline, hugging the edge of smooth, brown skin and sparkling with a crystalline shine before dropping off. Keith felt his tongue moving in his mouth, as if it wanted to catch it as it fell. He gladly clenched his teeth to keep his mouth shut before he did something stupid.

They were sitting in the school’s bleachers, the field empty save for the track-and-field team stretching after a quick warm-up. They’ve been hanging out since ten before noon, when their lunch period began, and spent the few short minutes chugging slushies from 7-Eleven and scarfing down twinkies because it was too hot for real food. It was no real lunch, but they only had another hour left before school let out for seniors, so it wasn’t like they’d starve or anything. If anything, they were more likely to roast to death than starve to death. June was craaaazy right now, temperatures high-fiving the 100-degree mark since the sun popped out. New York City was a real melting pot now.

Keith suffered through the heat wave just like everybody else: thin shirts and tanks. Cargo pants. Frozen water bottles. Slushies. Ice cream. ACs cranked up to eleven. And lots of cold showers; though, the reason for that one was more than just a damn heat wave.

“Hey.”

“Hn?” Keith turned to Lance. Lance was leaning against the bleachers, head resting on the next elevated level behind him. There was no way that could be comfortable, but Lance made it seem like he was at home, reclining on the couch. That’s how he always was; he did everything with ease, as if there wasn't a problem at all in the world with what he was doing.

Right now, Lance was looking at him with a brilliant, wicked grin. The mischief in that look ignited something in him, something exciting.

“Let’s ditch school and go to the beach. Just you and me.”

Keith scoffed. “We’re ten days away from graduation.”

“And your point is?” Lance sat up and, without warning, slung an arm around Keith’s waist and pressed him close. The feeling of Lance’s body, hot and still wet, made his heartbeat skyrocket. Keith’s entire right side was engulfed in flames, slowly simmering a pool of heat inside his chest. “Besides,” he continued rationally, “Fire Island’s an hour’s away. And that’s with a car. Which we don't have.”

None of that, of course, could deter Lance. “So we’ll go to the marina instead.” Lance dropped his chin on Keith’s shoulder. “C’mon,” he said, his breath hitting Keith’s neck, “you can ditch _one_ class.”

Keith swallowed hard before he could speak again. “Can’t.” He tried to pry Lance’s arm off before he lost his mind.

Lance scowled. “Fine.” He sighed and let go.

Keith couldn’t tell what was worse — the dizzying heat from having Lance on him or the coldness that hit his body the moment Lance let go.

But Lance hadn’t gone away completely; his head was still on his shoulder. They sat together in silence like that, watching the school’s track-and-field team start to wrap up for the day and head back to the building. They watched the field clear away until it was only them, sitting at the bleachers together like a couple of kids without a clue in the world what they were going to do next.

Keith felt the ghostly sensation of fingers on his pants leg. He heard the sharp _click click_ sound of the button of his pants pocket being snapped and unsnapped. Lance was bored.

“You got plans for Friday?” Lance asked.

Friday was the senior send-off, the last dance of the school year held exclusively for this year’s graduating class. It was the last big event before graduation, the last time they were all together in one place before scattering to the four corners of their world. Hunk was going off to Morocco, Lance was heading to Arizona, Rolo was running away to California, and Keith was— Keith wasn’t sure where he was going.

But he knew Lance wouldn’t be there.

“No,” he said, and the moment he did, Lance’s arm was snaking around him again.

“Then come to the dance,” Lance urged, pressing closer to him. The hard plane of Lance’s chest leaned heavily against his left arm. Lance stuck his lopsided grin and pleading eyes in Keith’s face, and Keith was suddenly drowning in the ocean of Lance’s eyes.

“Last dance, last chance,” Lance sing-songed, complete with waggling eyebrows and a voice that cracked slightly when his voice tried to hit a note outside its usual range. If he were any girl from school, that one slip would've been enough to send Lance crawling away behind a book and let his face burn off in embarrassment. But Lance wasn’t like that with him. Instead, Lance slid his arms around Keith, squeezing him tight, and laughed. Keith felt a deep, warm fondness spread inside him, and it grew into a dizzying sort of warmth when Lance looked up with a giddy smile. “C’mon,” Lance said, pushing himself up and leaning in close to Keith’s face. “Last dance. Please?”

Their foreheads touched, and Keith found himself trapped. He was plunged in the brilliant blue of Lance’s eyes, searching, and saw some kind of longing swimming deep within that gaze. It made Keith realize with a sudden hitch to his breath that Lance could probably see him the way Keith could see Lance — open, waiting, and vulnerable. He wanted to pull away, but he was lost in the pleading look in Lance’s eyes, lost at how real it was, like he was feeling something too, like he wanted him. He forgot to breathe, he forgot to push him away, he forgot that he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about his closest friend.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He wasn’t. He couldn’t.

That heavy reminder brought a numbing shock, cutting off the need to stay close to Lance, as close as possible, to see what it was that Lance was thinking. It was enough to jolt him back, physically, forcing a cold distance between Lance and himself.

“I can’t,” he said. He quickly tore his eyes away. It wasn't fast enough, because he was able to catch a glimpse of hurt on Lance’s face. It stabbed his chest, making his heart clench painfully.

Keith stood up. “I gotta go,” he said, climbing down the bleachers and landing on the ground. He started walking, trudging his feet across the field. He urged them to move faster, to take him away before he couldn’t bear to keep away anymore.

Lance called after him. “Keith, wait!”

He ran.

**Author's Note:**

> "s-tover" on tumblr. Drop a line.


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